Hold me, help me, love me
by Cainz
Summary: Jim Moriarty has been sold on the slave-market, but before he had the chance to learn from the cruel punishments at his new masters home, the man left him on the streets to die. Sherlock found the abused, scared Jim Moriarty naked dying on a street near his home. What is he going to do with him? Keep him? Let him die? Abuse him even more? Protect him? Care for him? Love him?
1. Naked men need help

Rainy, rainy London. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective and highly functioning sociopath, was walking alone through London. Mrs. Hudson was waiting for his arrival so they could drink their afternoon tea together, but he took his time. He never cared about anyone and he was not going to change that. Well, perhaps if John came back… No. John Watson had Mary Morstan, pardon Mary _Watson_. They were probably waiting at the airport for their flight to…what was it again? Oh yes, Hawaii, an island with a volcano. There are better ways to die, seriously John. 2 weeks alone. Oh no, 2 weeks alone with Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft and those idiots, oh pardon, inspectors from Scotland Yard. _Why do you hate me, John? What have I done to you that you wish to torture me like this?_

A whimper.

Sherlock stopped immediately. A whimper, high pitched but male, not animal like, but also barely human…a homeless? One of his homeless helpers? No, they catch his attention by talking to him. "Maybe you should look at him?" he heard Johns voice in his head.

Slowly he turned around and looked down. He recognized him immediately.

The man was naked, underfed, ill with a broken arm, fractured ribs, wounds all over his body, crying, shaking, bleeding, freezing, time till death: 30 minutes to an hour.

Sherlock knelt down and touched the man's face with a gloved finger. Black hair and pale skin. Oh yes, this was definitely him.

"I'm surprised to see you like this, _Moriarty_." He whispered with a soft, cold smile.

With a slight start the man looked up. Sherlock's smile disappeared as soon as he saw the red-rimmed eyes with fresh tears. This was not the Moriarty he knew and…loved.

"W-W-Who is M-Moriarty?"

Stuttering? Moriarty never stuttered. Scared looks? Moriarty was never scared! And this question: _Who is Moriarty?_ Maybe it was an act, but this… He didn't recognize any lies in this simple question. Not even one. His face: scared. There was nothing else neither in his face nor in his body language to read than immense fear. This was not the old Moriarty… and the fear seemed to increase.

"What…" Sherlock began frowning but was interrupted by a scared begging Moriarty: "S-Sir! I-I´m sorry, Sir! I-I-I w-won't forget it again, S-Sir! I k-know I-I'm below you, S-Sir! P-Please d-don't b-beat me, S-Sir!"

A begging Moriarty was definitely amusing, but still… The fear, it didn't fit him. Sherlock looked at him closely. In this condition… _Broken arm, fractured ribs, several wounds on his body_, he remembered. The question is: Will he bleed to death or will he freeze to death? Oh this is…interesting. Sherlock smiled again this cold knowing smile. 45-15 minutes (with the stress he himself was causing him to feel) were left until Moriarty was going to sleep forever.. Probably 17 minutes until there was nothing he could do to safe Moriarty´s life or any body parts (not that he would want to).

"Do you remember me?" He asked looking at the man with his cold unforgiving eyes.

The answer meant everything. Not everything but a lot. Actually it meant nothing; he just wanted to scare him a bit. Naughty little Sherlock, he heard the old Moriarty say in his sing-sang voice.

Moriarty looked down at his hands. He seemed to debate about his answer. Lying or telling the truth. Two answers and obviously Moriarty thought only one was right. Was there nothing of the old Moriarty left? Not a bit?

12 minutes

Slowly with fearful looks he nodded his head, no. It was not a lie Sherlock could see that the moment their eyes met again. Breathing in and out Sherlock moved closer.

"I want you to listen very well now, boy, and do as you're told, is that clear?"

Moriarty moved farther into the corner he was sitting in and Sherlock could tell that it was more than difficult with numb limbs.

"Y-Y-Yes, S-S-Sir." he whispered frightened and looked down again.

10 minutes

Oh how Sherlock loved this. These scared looks, this stuttering from Moriarty! He forced himself not to smile or laugh, but it seemed like it was going to be a good day after all…Moriarty in his hands, at his every wish. Gosh, was it Christmas already? He pulled out his unused umbrella and unintentionally frightened Moriarty with that.

"I'm not going to beat you with it, you know." Sherlock said without looking at the shaking man.

"A-A-Are y-you s-sure?" He heard Moriarty asked in a little more than a whisper while looking up.

Are you sure? What a question. Are you sure, Sherlock? Mycroft's voice. Are you sure? Of course he was sure! No, no, calm down! Calm down, Sherlock!

6 minutes

"I-I-I m-mean… I-I meant… A-A-Are y-you sure, _S-Sir_?" He corrected himself.

"I can assure you, I am 100% sure." Sherlock snapped without looking at him while opening the umbrella.

Moriarty winced and looked down.

"Of course, Sir." He whispered.

Were the words that harsh? Obviously. Moriarty…What did they do to you? Slave traders? Okay, Sherlock, you need to concentrate now. He closed his eyes, the umbrella still clutched in his hand. What happened to his favorite enemy? Slave traders, sold on black-market, new master, new rules, he didn't follow them, punishment, whip lashes on his back, kicks in the ribs, starvation, master got tired of him, left him here. The End. Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at his old enemy.

4 minutes until there was nothing he could safe anymore.

Sherlock could see that all the man wanted to do now was lie down and sleep for a very long time. He could see that Moriarty had forgotten the coldness and the rain; could see that the man's eyes closed slowly… Oh no, not now, Moriarty, not today. Sherlock lifted him to his arms and ran with the umbrella shielding them from the rain. Bakerstreet, Bakerstreet, Dorset Street, run left, Montagu Row, run right, Crawford Street, run right, Bakerstreet!

2 minutes.

Moriarty shook in his arms either from cold or from fear and closed his eyes.

"Don't you dare sleep! We are almost there. Don't sleep!" he yelled.

Moriarty´s eyes shot open. Oh yes, the good old reaction of a slave to an order, Sherlock chuckled.

221b Bakerstreet… There! He ran and ran, didn't even realize the exhaustion of this run. And then he could see the door open and Mrs. Hudson waving to him.

"Hello Sherlock! You missed our daily afternoon tea and… Mr. Sherlock Holmes who is that man in your arms? And why is he naked? He must be freezing! And death pale too! Oh Sherlock, what did you-"

"Mrs. Hudson, warm a bed and bring some tea, bandages and salve! We need to warm him up!" he yelled while running past her and throwing the umbrella away.

"I´m not your-" she began but was interrupted by Sherlock who stopped his running to look at her and yell: "Mrs. Hudson, he is nearly dead so please shut up already and do as you´re told!"

There was silence for a while. No one dared to say a word. Sherlock was slightly shocked. He hadn't meant to yell at the woman who kept him alive.

"I prepared the room already, it´s upstairs…and it´s John´s room." Mrs. Hudson said with a knowing smile.

Sherlock mouthed a thank you and ran upstairs. The warm bed was prepared, a hot cup of tea was standing on the night stand and fresh clothes were laid out for Moriarty. How did she do that? And he remembered: A man with a red scarf has walked past him. Angelo had seen him and had called Mrs. Hudson, who knew what he planned on doing. He was, like Lestrade always said, deep inside a good man. Sherlock chuckled, he should have known sooner. Slowly he put him under the warm covers after placing the broken body on the bed. A sigh was heard from Moriarty and he relaxed immediately. Still the man refused to close his eyes for longer than a few seconds. Again this day the consulting detective chuckled while leaning down to the nearly dead man and whispered the nicest order the man had heard so far: "Sleep."

Sherlock turned to leave, but soft spoken words stopped him before he could close the door: "T-T-Thank you, S-Sherlock."

And he smiled.


	2. Strange new Master

Hi, yes it took long but I think this chapter is pretty damn good (for my standards)

Flashback/emphasised words - _I am Sherlocked_

**Please Review**

* * *

"_Good Morning, Jim. I hope you slept well?" the sweet voice of his Master spoke politely._

_Silence. There was complete silence in the room they both were in. Jim didn't even dare to breathe. He could feel the cold unforgiving eyes of his Master on him, but still there was this politely asked question. He looked down. He was lying on the floor. No shackles, no chains. There was only the a lot too tight collar around his neck. He tried to breathe but the collar was closed too tight around his throat to let the air in. He gasped as he received a kick in the stomach. His Master was angry! He should have answered in the first place. _

"_I asked you a question, filth! Answer me!" he heard him yell._

_Immense pain filled him. What has he done? Why couldn´t he be good? Why did he displease his Master? It was his entire fault. He breathed deeply. What could he do now? His punishment would just increase if said the wrong thing. Maybe the Master was feeling generous today? Maybe he wasn't going to punish him, if he begged?_

"_I´msorryMaster" he coughed. _

_His ribs hurt. Something was very wrong. Was he supposed to be unable to breathe? He gasped and then coughed loudly again, rolling himself into a ball, trying to protect his important body parts. It was wrong of him to think of his Master as a merciful man. He wasn't. The Master was brutal and unforgiving and unbelievable cruel, punishing him for everything from little accidents to something he wasn't supposed to say (like being thirsty, in pain or exhausted) _

"_`I´m sorry, Master´ is not an answer, filth!"_

_The Master had asked something and of course he expected an answer. What did the Master want to hear? Did he sleep well? Yes, in fact he did. There were neither nightmares nor pain from his daily (nearly hourly) punishments. It was surprisingly the best sleep he ever had in his Masters home. But if he answers like that he will quite possibly insult his Master with that statement. Or he lied and risked a hard punishment. So either way, he was going to be punished. He gulped and looked at the floor, with his now cold sweaty hands fidgeting._

"_I-I-I slept g-g-good, M-Master." He whispered. _

_For a short moment no one made a move and Jim feared that this might have been the wrong response, but then his Master laughed loudly, lifting him up gently. _

"_See, Jimmy. This wasn't as bad as you thought, right?" the Master said still laughing._

_Jim shook his head, relieved that his Master was pleased with his answer. _

"_Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, you know I get bored of my slaves pretty easily. And now, the time has come that you, my dear dear Jimmy, are to leave my care."_

Jim woke up with a start. Nightmare, it was just a nightmare, he reassured himself. Nothing to worry about. What actually worried him was that he found himself lying in a bed. He was used to sleeping on the floor and definitely not in a warm bed, with fresh tea and water on the nightstand next to him. Immediately he sat up. Who was so grateful to let him sleep in a bed and give him tea? Was it tea? Slowly he extended a hand to the warm cup as if he was afraid of touching it. Actually he was. His hand was shaking and he had to hold the cup with both hands to avoid letting it fall to the ground and spilling the wonderful liquid. He didn't want to drink it all. Of course he didn't, he wouldn't manage that. He just wanted to take one small sip to prove if this was a dream or not. With shaking hands he brought the warm cup to his lips to drink, to finally be able to taste it.

"Thirsty?"

The cup slipped from his hands and crushed on the hard floor after spilling the tea on the bed sheets. Jims eyes widened as he realized what he had done. He had soiled the new Masters property, hadn't been careful enough with the cup and had broken it. It had been his fault. Immediately he was on his knees in front of his new Master, the one who had saved him.

"S-S-Sir! I-I´m… I-I´m so so sorry, S-Sir! I-I didn't m-mean t-to, S-S-Sir! I-It w-w-was… P-P-Please, S-Sir" he grabbed Sherlock's leg and pressed his forehead on the shoe points of his Master, whispering the next part "M-Master, p-p-please d-don't p-punish me t-too h-harshly… I-I promise, I-I won't do it a-a-again, M-Master!"

Then a new thought came to his mind. What if the bed and the tea cup were a test? What if his Master wanted to trick him into a punishment? No! He wouldn't do that, would he? But it seemed like that's the only logic reason why his Master would let him rest in a bed and provide him with tea. How was he going to get punished? Would his Master slap, beat or whip him? His previous Master used to love using the whip on him. Is his new Master going to be just the same?

"Moriarty" He looked up with a start.

His Masters face was so close to his. He could feel the warm breath brushing against his cheek. So close. It scared him and his shaking increased. He didn't like to wait for his punishment. It frightened him even more. And there was still the question: What was going to be done to him?

Which punishment would his Master choose? Or did he want to wait until he begged for punishment? Did his new Master like to have his slaves begging for their punishment? Was he really that cruel?

"Look at me"

He couldn't obey his Master. It was forbidden for a slave to look into a free man's face. Not a free man's face but also his Master´s face. He couldn't. It was forbidden! Didn't his Master know that? How could he ask for something that was beaten into him never to do? Jim felt tears welling up and running down his cheeks. He couldn't obey him. A whimper escaped his lips as he slowly began to shake his head.

"_Moriarty_"

There was a slight threat in his new Masters voice. He made him angry. Of course he was angry! Who would be happy about a disobedient slave? Disobedient, bad, can't follow orders, unworthy of kindness, needs to be punished, slut, whore… He had many names. Someone grabbed his chin softly but with enough force to pull him out of his thoughts and lift his chin.

"Look at me, boy"

And finally he looked into the cold blue eyes of his new Master, still waiting to get slapped for his disobedience and for everything else he had done wrong. How was he going to show his Master that he was sorry? Maybe the Master wanted him to service him? After all his previous Master always treated him more nicely if he gave himself to them.

"Get back into the bed."

So that's where his Master wanted him. He stood up as gracefully as he could in this situation and moved over to the bed. His shaking increased. No one had ever actually… _taken_ him. It had always been a blowjob…until now. The time has come that his Master wanted to use his body. Hopefully he could please his Master. After all he had never done this before. His previous Master has touched him… but not in this kind of way. This was new… He was afraid to even look back to guess if his Master was sure or if this was just another test. Slowly he lied down on the bed, his hands placed over his head as he waited for his Master to... What actually was going to be done to him? But instead of…using his body for his pleasure, his Master was just staring at him blankly.

"What are you doing?"

He sat up in shock. Didn't his Master order him to "get back into the bed"? Has this been a trick? Oh yes, it surely has! He should never have obeyed. Slaves aren't allowed to sleep in beds. It was forbidden! Why couldn't he remember this one rule? Why couldn't he be good? Not even once?

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and began to shake.

"I-I-I…" he stuttered.

Speaking out of turn. Stupid! He cringed. His Master was going to punish him. And he is not going to be very merciful. He should apologize and beg but his Master began to speak:

"Lie down, Moriarty. You need to sleep."

When he didn't obey, his Master pushed him back into a lying position and covered him with a blanket. He could barely breathe. What was his Master doing? Why was he not furious? When would he punish him? Yes, that question needs to be asked first. Even if it meant that he'd get another beating. This not knowing was torture.

"W-W-When… When d-do you wish t-to p-p-punish me, M-Master?" he stuttered too afraid to even look at his Master.

He heard a long sigh and then footsteps coming closer. Was his Master getting angrier? After all he had spoken out of turn…and stuttered. Hopefully not, he knew his body wouldn't withstand another punishment.

"You mean for spilling the tea, letting the cup fall to the ground and disobeying me, twice actually" Moriarty whimpered and tears began to form in his eyes. _Twice_. He had disobeyed his Master _twice_ on _purpose_. His Master began to speak again, pulling him out of his thoughts: "We are going to discuss you punishment as soon as you slept for a few hours, then we are going to eat breakfast, then discuss your punishment maybe while drinking our afternoon-tea so you understand _why_ you are being punished and _then_ you are receiving you punishment. Understood? Great."

Moriarty just nodded, but he couldn't understand why his Master wanted him to understand what he had done wrong. He knew what was happening, he knew he was a bad slave, he knew he needs to be punished. He was bad. That was a fact. Also he couldn't understand why his Master used the term "we". As if he was going to eat breakfast or drink tea. Slaves weren't supposed to have their needs fulfilled, were they? It would be generous, but he was already gifted with the privilege of sleeping in a bed. Not sleeping in a bed but also ordered to sleep in said bed. He had a nice Master. With that thought he snuggled himself deep into the pillows and fell asleep almost immediately, but before oblivion claimed him he could feel his Master´s hand caressing his head and calming whispered words:

"Good night and sleep well, Moriarty."

* * *

**How to write a Review for me: **

What could I improve?

In what fandoms are you in?

Do you have any critics?

Do you like me?

Do you like my writing?

Whats the funniest pairing you ever heard of?

How can I improve my English since I´m not a native speaker?

What are your OTPs?

What you would like Moriarty or Sherlock or Mrs. Hudson or Sherlocks skull friend to do in the next chapter?

Did you fangirl when Sherlock and Moriarty kissed each other?

Which character would you like to appear in the next chapter?

Are you Sherlocked, Watsoned or Moriartied? (Or skulled? Gosh I love this skull)

Just choose some of them or if you want tell me everything PM me! ^^


End file.
